


How Do Fairytales End?

by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite



Series: Prompt Stories [19]
Category: Ella Enchanted (2004), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Jagten | The Hunt (2012)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Happy Ending, Longing, M/M, fairytale AU, making wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: "Everyone has a wish inside them," Prince Char told her, "it’s the most powerful magic. It can only be used for someone’s most ardent desires, but it will always come true."A story of a storybook and wishes coming true.
Relationships: Lucas/Charmont
Series: Prompt Stories [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575220
Comments: 36
Kudos: 150





	How Do Fairytales End?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hannibalsimago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibalsimago/gifts).



> Written for a lovely friend who asked for some Lucas love that wasn't the Lucadam pairing. We wanted to try something new!

Lucas had found the book at a market stall.

He hadn't intended to even look at it, but the lady selling it called him over. By name.

"You look like a Lucas," she'd said in lieu of any other explanation. He hadn't pushed it. It didn't matter. This was a new town, a new country, even, and his old life was far behind him. She couldn't know of it.

The book looked old, as though it had seen generations grow up and grow old in some stuffy library shelf. The leather cover was worn and dusty, the binding coming off at the top of the book. But there was something about it, something that pulled at Lucas to first ask about it then reach out and pick it up.

"My grandmother told me the book brought joy to those that read it," the stallholder told him, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Lucas when he looked skeptical. "Can't hurt to give it a try, no?"

It didn't hurt, no. Not Lucas' pride nor his wallet - it was less than a dollar and he paid in change.

"Perhaps I will read it to my class," he said. Her smile widened. 

"The farther it's shared, the more potent its magic," she agreed. "And there's no one on earth with the power to believe like children."

In essence, it was a very conventional story: a young prince who needed to find himself, a common girl with the power to help him on his way while becoming her own hero and rescuer. It would be good for the kids, and something new.

Lucas started reading it to them that very next storytime.

It was the sort of story he could drag out a few days, simple enough that they would remember it between sessions. The children were hooked immediately. 

“Tell us about the prince,” they demanded the second day. Lucas obliged, and read them another chapter. 

Despite the simplicity, the story was vivid. The images stuck in Lucas’s mind, until he felt like he could clearly picture each place, each person. 

In his dreams that night, he felt something warm creeping in under his skin. 

“What do you think about the prince?” He asked his students. 

One girl raised her hand frantically, nearly flying from her seat. “I think he’s kind,” she said. “He’s helping the maiden even though he’s supposed to go home to help his kingdom.”

“And he doesn’t just want to marry her,” another little boy pitched in, to giggles from some of the other kids. “Girls are yucky.”

“Albert,” Lucas chastened him gently, but he was smiling. Some other kids raised their hands, telling Lucas that they thought the prince was charming, and helpful, and talented. One little girl surprised Lucas, however.

“I think he’s silly.” she said. 

“Why’s that?”

“He believes in magic.”

Lucas blinked, tilting his head and closing the book against his fingers. “Don’t you believe in magic, Sarabelle?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “But adults don’t.”

_ Adults don’t believe in magic. _

Lucas carried that thought home with him. He couldn’t seem to set it aside or distract himself with anything else but that thought. Did adults just stop believing in magic, at some point in their lives? Did they just accept that life was hard and nothing would make it easier?

He hated the thought, but he knew how true it was.

Perhaps that’s why the book was such a pleasure for him to read to his kids; it made him feel as though he was allowed to believe in magic again, just like the prince in the story.

That night he dreamt he was in a forest, similar to the one that surrounded his own home. It was autumn, and leaves in warm golds, browns, and reds littered the ground. He walked through them, letting the hush of dried leaves soothe him. When someone caught his hand, he turned to look over his shoulder in surprise.

The man was tall, slender, brown haired. His features blurred and flickered like they so often did in dreams. 

But he was handsome, Lucas knew that, and his smile was kind. His fingers were warm in Lucas’ hands. 

“Walk with me?” He asked, and Lucas did, and it felt like peace. 

The next day, Lucas read another chapter. In it, the prince and the maiden outsmarted a group of bandits. 

“He’s sneaky,” Max said. “He tricked those bandits super easy.”

“ _ I _ don’t think he’s sneaky,” Charlotte insisted. “I think he’s smart.  _ Smart _ people can trick anyone.”

“But  _ tricking  _ people  _ makes _ you sneaky,” Max said, raising his voice. 

Before they could begin to fight about it, Lucas stepped in. 

“Perhaps he is a little bit of both,” he said smoothly. “He’s very clever, our prince. He would know when to be sneaky, and when to be smart.”

"Yeah," Emily pitched in. "And he's nice to the maiden and isn't sneaky with her."

"That's right," Lucas smiled, watching Emily blush but preen at the praise. "They were both sneaky to help each other and get out of harm's way."

As Lucas packed up his desk after school, he found he didn't want to set the book to the shelf behind his desk. His fingers itched to touch the worn cover, his eyes begged to read more of the words.

There wouldn't be harm in him reading ahead. In fact, it would be the responsible thing to do. What if something came up that wasn't appropriate for the class? Reading ahead would allow him to rephrase it or skip the section entirely without being put on the spot.

Yes, taking the book home was the best solution.

And he found that once he brought it home, it made its way to his bedside table, and into his hands that evening when he climbed into bed.

He read until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, falling asleep with the book on his chest and his light still on.

He dreamed of the same forest as last time, the same warm hand in his own. Only this time, the prince had a face; youthful and bright, with clear blue eyes and a wide dimpled smile. His curls cascaded over his brow and he flicked them away.

“Walk with me?” He asked. There was a hazy, lilting quality to his voice, but Lucas found it soothed him. 

They walked beneath orange canopies, hand in hand, the forest coming to life around them. There were birds, now, and the sounds of snapping twigs. 

Lucas turned to ask for his companion’s name and found himself staring at his alarm clock. 

When it came time to read to his students next, Lucas found he couldn’t. He had left the book at home, tucked into his bed like a lover. 

He could not stand to disappoint such eager faces, however, and so he tried a new tactic. 

“How would  _ you _ tell the story?” He asked them. “What should the prince and maiden do next?”

The class had a myriad of ideas, some more wild than others. Most involved feats of heroics, great deeds, the occasional Saturday morning cartoon villain. 

The children all agreed that the prince was brave, that he was as courageous as he was kind, that nothing frightened him, and if it did, he would face it anyway. 

“So we can learn from them both, can’t we?” Lucas asked them, as the day was drawing to a close. “Both how to be brave, and how to be gentle, but also how to stand up for the things you believe in and what matters to you.”

The kids left delighted, and Lucas found himself impatient to get home to his book and read on. He was determined to not forget it again. And he was determined to be brave.

That night, when the man in his dreams asked Lucas to walk with him, he did, holding his hand tight, and not even trying to hide a smile.

“You’re the prince, aren’t you?” He asked. His own voice sounded younger in his head, more carefree. He sounded the way he had before he’d had to move, before… everything. The younger man smiled and winked.

“You already know the answer to that.”

Lucas ducked his head with a smile. He did know. But it was nice to have it confirmed. He squeezed the hand in his and the prince returned the gesture, stepping nearer as they walked through the forest.

“I was lonely,” the prince said after a while, his boots kicking up the dry leaves in their path. “I was always so lonely here, until you showed up to keep me company.”

Lucas looked askance, but the prince only smiled, leaning close and kissing Lucas’ cheek.

“Thank you.”

Lucas hadn’t finished the book, but he did bring it to class with him, reading on for the enthusiastic little listeners at his feet. It was a chapter he had particularly liked when he read it at home, and he delivered the dialogue and action to the children with different tones and voices to convey what was going on.

“I want to be like the prince,” Emily said, her gaze distant, her smile warm and dreamlike. A murmur of agreement went up around the classroom. 

“I want to be brave,” Max said, “and, and fight dragons and help maidens and-“

Lucas felt a smidge of childish yearning. He wanted to be like the prince too, to be brave and smart and kind-

“You are.”

When Lucas slept that night, he found himself in the forest again, curled up on fallen leaves, his head tucked into a warm lap. 

“What?”

“You are,” the prince said again. “Brave. Smart.  _ So  _ kind.”

“You don’t know that,” Lucas whispered. “You only know me here.”

The prince brushed hair from Lucas’ face. “You are never more yourself than when you’re here.”

Perhaps he was right, perhaps Lucas  _ was _ himself in his dreams, in this strange liminal place between fiction and fact. He’d dreamed up a man to care for him after reading about him in a book. It was almost pathetic but it felt… soft. Comfortable. Right.

He started hating waking up.

A week into the story, Lucas read his kids the chapter he had loved the most.

“‘Everyone has a wish inside them,’ prince Char told her, ‘it’s the most powerful magic. It can only be used for someone’s most ardent desires, but it will  _ always _ come true.’”

“What does ‘ardent’ mean?” Charlotte asked, raising her hand.

“Something you truly believe in,” Lucas told her, “something you’re very passionate about.”

“Could it be love?” Max, surprisingly, asked this one. Some of the girls turned to look at him and he blushed, but refused to look away. Lucas nodded slowly.

“Yes, I think that was what the prince meant.”

“So, could you spend your wish on someone you loved instead?”

“I think that would make it even more powerful,” Lucas said, smiling. “I think that would be a very big thing to sacrifice for someone you love, your only wish that is guaranteed to come true.”

“I hope he uses it to find someone to love,” Sarabelle said. She’d forgiven the prince his “silly” belief in magic by now.

“But the maiden loves him!”

“Not like  _ that _ ,” Sarabelle replied. “Someone who is his one true love.”

“There are many kinds of love,” Lucas told them. “We all have so much capacity for love inside of us.”

“Well he doesn’t love the maiden like  _ that _ ,” Sarabelle insisted. “They’re like…  _ besties. _ ”

Lucas was a good teacher, and had been for many years, but he couldn’t help his snicker. “Yes, perhaps.”

At night, this time, Lucas reached for the prince first. He took the prince’s hand in his, felt callouses from battles. A sword fighter, he and the children had learned, swift and agile. 

“Are  _ you _ my  _ bestie _ ?” the prince teased. He twined their fingers together, walking shoulder to shoulder with Lucas.

“How much of that do you see?”

The prince shrugged. “I don’t  _ see _ your life. I only see what you bring here with you.” 

“And where are we?”

The prince smiled, bright and sweet. “This is where you keep all your love.”

Lucas did love his children, all of them. Every year, he loved them, and it hurt to see them grow, but he never ran out of love. 

How he felt about the prince, though…

The kids were getting very invested in the story, so invested that sometimes it was hard to keep them on track with other activities, because all they wanted to do was find out what happened in the story next.

So Lucas used that, he used that enthusiasm, he used that joy that he could  _ feel _ in the air, to incorporate into the rest of their day.

Art now involved illustrations of their favourite chapters or characters. They made swords out of twisted up newspaper and pretended to go into battle. Lucas found that more often than not he was the dragon they were defending each other from, and he didn’t mind. Because back home, back in their forest, he wasn’t the dragon. He was brave, and smart, and so, so kind.

Lucas kissed the prince first. Without preamble, without buildup, he took his hand and tugged him close and pressed their lips together in a kiss so soft it was barely there, though it made both of them shiver.

“See?” Char whispered, pressing their foreheads together after. “Courage that not even I possess.”

Lucas woke soon after, staring at the ceiling as the sun slowly came up outside. It was a Saturday. He had nowhere to be. But  _ God _ , there was someone he wanted to be  _ with _ . With a sigh he brought a hand to his eyes to rub them.

“Char,” he whispered, knowing it didn’t matter, knowing no one could hear. “How I wish that you were real. That you were here with me. That we had more time than just the things we dream.”

Saturday meant lesson planning. It meant coming up with five more days of activities, of creating a world of knowledge for a roomful of tiny, eager minds.

This week, it meant choosing a new story. They were coming up on the last chapter of Char’s, and then the book would go away, forgotten until the next year and the next class. It made Lucas ache to think of it.

Char was beautiful. He deserved better than to be shut away on a shelf to gather dust. He deserved brightness, he deserved to be out in the world.

Instead, he lived only in the forest of Lucas’s mind, built out of children’s dreams and held together by a wish. 

Lucas ran his fingers over the soft pages of the old book. None of the other stories had captivated this year’s class like this one had. He worried they’d rebel when forced to try something new, with how dearly they loved Char.

Perhaps he would have them create their own stories. None of them could write more than a small handful of words, of course, but they could draw the pictures and Lucas would help them say what they needed to say. Then they could all hold on to Char a little longer.

When Lucas crawled into bed that night, he thought of his wish from that morning, how foolish and ridiculous it had been.

Then he thought of Char, of his eyes, of his smile. On a whim, Lucas slipped from the bed and collected the book from its shelf, tucking it into the bed beside him.

He was a fool, a lovesick fool, over a storybook character. How lonely could he be? Lucas closed his eyes, reaching out to place a hand over the cover. He wished, he wished so badly, that magic was real, that he was not an old fool with no life beyond his children.

He wished, he wished, he wished…

The forest was empty. Just as warm with golds and reds but silent, with no one around but Lucas himself. He called for Char, closed his eyes and held out his hands, in case that was the cue, somehow, for Char to meet him, to hold him and reassure him that for the moment, safe in his own dreams, all was well.

But he didn’t.

He wasn’t there.

Lucas was all alone.

He woke with a shudder, tears cooling on his cheeks and body tensed so much it hurt him. Of course it wasn’t real, of course. Why would he think that a recurring dream meant anything at all? How could it? Dreams weren’t real, they were the mind’s chance to escape, to get away from the pain of reality for just a moment. Dreams weren’t real, nor were wishes, nor was magic -

“Hey,”

Lucas sat up in bed, eyes wide, and stared at the door to his bedroom. It was still dark beyond the windows, and while his heart hammered against his ribs he was sure that if someone was about to rob him they wouldn’t have greeted him to give him a chance to notice.

And that voice, that voice was familiar, so familiar -

“Lucas,” the man said, stepping deeper into the room, coming to sit at the foot of the bed where some moonlight lingered and illuminated pale skin and ruffled sleeves, bouncy curls, blue eyes -

“No,” Lucas swallowed, shaking his head and closing his eyes with a shuddered gasp. “No, don’t do this, if I’m to wake up, let me wake up, don’t do this to me,”

When someone touched his cheek, Lucas turned into it with a sob, helpless to his own childish hopes and wishes. When Char pressed his forehead to Lucas’ own, Lucas sighed out a laugh, reaching for him, and finding him  _ there _ , warm, and corporeal, and alive.

And here. Somehow, here.

“It’s alright,” Char whispered, folding into his arms. “It’s alright, Lucas, I’m here.”

“How?” Lucas choked. Char laughed, his own eyes damp as he cupped Lucas’s face in his hands.

“I have no idea,” he said. “One minute, I’m in your forest, the next I’m here. You must have longed for me  _ very _ badly.”

“I did,” Lucas said, “I do. Char, I changed my mind, don’t let me wake up.”

Char nuzzled their noses together, tilted his head so their lips were millimeters apart. “I don’t think it can be undone,” he whispered. “There will be no more sunrises without me.”

Lucas let out another sound, helpless and agonized. His arms wrapped tight around Char’s back, crushing him to his chest. He kissed him soundly, so desperate that their teeth clacked together. Char laughed again, perfect and airy, and carefully realigned their lips. 

Lucas reached out to fumble for the bedside lamp and sat back to look at Char properly when he did.

And there he was: the prince from the book, dressed in his travel clothes, his shirt undone at the throat, his jacket already dusty and road-worn. Lucas laughed, he couldn’t help it, he laughed and reached out to touch Char’s face, to stroke his hair, to run his hand down his arm until they were holding hands again.

“How is this possible?” He asked. Char just shrugged, brows furrowed in gentle confusion. 

“I don’t know,” he told him honestly, his own laugh just as warm. “All I know is I wished for you, and here I am with you.”

_ How I wish that you were real. That you were here with me. That we had more time than just the things we dream… _

Lucas reached for him and they were kissing again, lips parting to allow the other’s tongue to scrape their teeth. Hands grasped and tugged, Lucas’ sleep shirt ended up on the floor beneath Char’s jacket, the prince kicked off his boots on top of that. Tangled limbs and laughter until both were bare and Lucas pressed Char back into the sheets and kissed him deeply, their bodies touching from toes to shoulders.

“You’re here,” Lucas whispered. Char smiled up at him.

“I’m here,”

He was so unbearably real, so much more detailed than he’d ever been in their midnight hours together. Suddenly, Lucas was aware of so many things.

He knew, now, that Char smelt of autumn, of crisp leaves, of a night spent asleep in the grass. He could kiss his way across his chest over a trail of faint, scarce freckles, just a small handful. 

Every curl of Char’s hair had definition. His eyes were not blue, but a dozen shades, a starburst of color. When Lucas bowed his head to take a dusky nipple into his mouth, Char’s startled gasp was a melody. 

There was no way for Lucas to take his time. Panic lingered in the corner of his mind, the certainty that this was a fluke, a trick. That this would be their only moment together.

But if it would be their only moment, Lucas would take it, and flood it with as many things as he could. He licked his way into Char’s mouth, reaching down, down, until he could wrap his hands around the base of Char’s cock and stroke him slowly, tenderly. 

Char wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled close, goosebumps crawling over his skin as he spread his legs and let Lucas touch him.

“God, I dreamed of this,” he whispered, “I thought of this… when we didn’t meet in the forest, the hours between. I thought of your hands against me, the weight of you -  _ oh - _ ”

Lucas kissed his cheek, rocking his hips down against the back of his own hand before adjusting their positions and taking them both in hand together. Their moans melded into one low, pleased hum of sound.

Char’s hand slipped through Lucas’ hair, grasping it to hold on as his other dragged down his back to cup his ass and encourage him to move faster.

Neither knew how long they had, what this even meant. Neither truly knew if it was a dream or a hallucination, or a most ardent wish come true. It didn’t matter as long as they had it for a while longer, as long as they could taste each other, feel the body against theirs respond to every touch and shiver.

“You’re extraordinary,” Lucas breathed, grasping Char’s hair in turn and pressing his forehead against him. “You’re beautiful.”

Char laughed, helpless and breathy, and drew his knees up as his toes pressed to the bed and he came, hard and hot, between them.

It was impossible to hold back, after that. His grip slicked with Char’s release, Lucas tugged frantically at his own cock. He came with a groan, muffling it against Char’s jaw. Char welcomed the mess with another laugh, and a kiss, tugging him in until it seemed they could be no closer. 

Lucas half expected Char to vanish when it was over. When he didn’t, when he lingered on as the dawn began to stream in through the window, Lucas dared to believe that maybe he wouldn’t.

“It’s sticky,” Char finally said. “Do you have a cloth?”

Lucas went to grab him one, freezing in the doorway to the bathroom. He turned to Char with a wide grin, beckoning him over. 

“I’m about to introduce you to indoor plumbing.”

Char snorted but pushed himself out of bed, blissfully bare, to come closer.

Indoor plumbing wasn’t the only thing that Char found beyond fascinating that Sunday. Having borrowed a pair of Lucas’ briefs so he could walk around the house without entirely scandalizing the neighbours, he followed Lucas around like a puppy, excited about anything and everything new.

The coffee plunger. Coffee in general. The radio. The television. Lucas’ cellphone. Lucas’ landline. The cars outside. The different textures and colors of Lucas’ clothes. His glasses - though he’d examined them in the forest before.

He was overwhelmed in the most perfect way. Nothing made sense, but it felt like nothing needed to. He had Lucas, who spoke to him softly and doted on him, who loved him and took every opportunity to touch Char and remind him of that fact.

By evening, he was exhausted, and curled up at Lucas’ side to look at the book that had brought them together. He stroked it with gentle fingers but refused to open it, laughing when Lucas asked him why.

“My entire life is in there,” he reminded him. “At least, the latest part of it that I can remember. I won’t risk never seeing you again by opening it up.”

Lucas shoved the book away as though it had burned him. After a moment, he stood, fetching from the closet a shoebox and two belts. 

“What on  _ earth _ are you doing?” Char asked, for what must have been the thousandth time that day. With a look of utmost seriousness on his face, Lucas bound the book shut with a belt, sealed it into the shoebox, and then bound the shoe box as well. The entire thing went back into the closet, on a very high shelf.

When Lucas turned back, Char was smiling so wide his face ached, bursting with such fondness he could never possibly contain it. Lucas climbed into bed with him and kissed the grin from his face.

In the morning, Lucas left Char with careful instructions on the use of the main appliances in the house. Char was absolutely fascinated by the concept of ‘Netflix,’ though Lucas was sure to warn him not to trust the sci-fi. He left Char watching some sort of romantic comedy about shopping. 

The children were devastated to learn that Lucas had not brought the book with him. The chance to write their own ending, however, was too much to resist. They spent the first hour of the day busily scribbling their drawings, and when he brought them out for morning recess, they went with shrieks of joy, telling each other how their stories would play out.

Lucas followed them at a slower pace, bringing up a hand to cover his eyes against the sun. He thought of Char, back home, back at  _ his home _ waiting for Lucas to return. He thought of how much the kids adored him, without even knowing he existed, truly existed. He envied them that, the blind faith in good things and magical things. He missed having it.

He paced to the fence and leaned against it, keeping everyone in his line of sight as they played, keeping an ear out for particularly curious book ending theories.

Max thought that the prince would find an entire army of dinosaurs and learn to ride them and become their king.

Charlotte insisted that he and the maiden became “like a mommy and daddy” and lived happily ever after, with Sarabelle arguing that they absolutely would  _ not _ because they were just very, very good friends.

It was Albert who alerted Lucas to something unusual, with a bright shrieking laugh before he launched himself to the fence and plastered up against it.

“What is it, buddy?” Lucas asked.

“He’s here, he’s here!” Albert yelled, eyes bright with excitement. “I knew he’d come to see us, I knew that was how the book ended!”

Lucas looked up, following the line Albert’s eager pointing finger made, and caught his breath.

It was Char,  _ his _ Char, he supposed,  _ their _ Char. In his princely garb, a smile wide on his face as he raised his hand and waved. Lucas waved back.

“You didn’t pack a lunch,” he explained, holding a paper bag out through the bars. He’d pressed close enough for Albert to grab a fistful of his silk shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Are these your children?”

The children mobbed him, surging so thickly around the gate that it was a struggle for Lucas to pick his way through. 

“Mr. Lucas,” Charlotte asked, voice sweet and too-knowing. “Is that your  _ boyfriend _ ?”

“Your boyfriend is the  _ prince _ ?” Max asked.

This started a new wave of chatter, one that took an entire minute to quell, during which Char just stood and grinned at him.

“Alright,” Lucas said when the children had settled. “Yes, this is my boyfriend. Everyone say hello to… Mr. Char.”

“Like the  _ prince _ !” Albert squealed joyfully, and they were off again.

Lucas raised his eyes to the sky in affectionate displeasure and opened the gate for Char to step into the property. Here the kids gave him a little room, more to look at how he was dressed than anything else. They were all curious kids, and gentle, and easily excitable. And Lucas had to admit, that if his teacher in kindergarten had a partner that looked exactly like the main character in the book they were reading, he would have been just as enthused.

“Mr. Char, are you really a prince?”

Char laughed, drawing a hand through his hair as he looked at Lucas. “I suppose so, yes.”

“You speak funny.”

“Do I?”

“It’s not  _ funny, _ it’s an  _ accent.” _

“Did you bring your sword?”

Char blinked. “Uh, no, I’m afraid I didn’t. I didn’t think it necessary when my quest today was of a pleasant nature.”

“You  _ do _ speak funny,” Emily sighed, but she looked like she was harboring a crush rather than rebuking him for it. Char couldn’t help but laugh again. Lucas couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he’d tried.

“What happens in the story, Mr. Char?” Sarabelle asked. “Do you and the maiden get together?”

Char laughed, sinking into a crouch to be closer to the eager faces. “Would you say Mr. Lucas is a maiden?”

More laughter there, bright and delighted as the kids shook their heads. Char gave Lucas a smile, fond and wide, before sitting on the ground and wrapping his arms over his knees.

“Mr. Char, d’you wanna tell us how the book really ends?” Albert asked. “We’ve been making the endings up but we wanna know the real ending.”

A few shouts of agreement, some kids bouncing on the balls of their feet in their joy as they waited. Char gave Lucas a look, eyes narrowed and nose wrinkling as he grinned, and licked his lips before replying.

“How do all fairytales end?” He asked instead. “With a happy ever after.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

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